Firewood
by Misty Reeyus
Summary: "…Yuri, do you think I'm going to tell them? About Cumore, I mean?"


**Firewood**

"I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

Yuri frowns, pulling his axe back up and tossing Estelle a curious look over his shoulder. She's been silent up until now; they both have, as Yuri chopped away at fallen tree limbs to make wood for their campfire and she sat on a stump to keep watch, so he wasn't expecting her to suddenly speak out of the blue, nor does he quite understand what her words mean. But Estelle is looking at him expectantly, solemnly, and that's enough to have unease creeping into his gut.

He furrows his brow. "…Excuse me?"

Estelle gazes back at him steadily. "You've always got your eye on me," she continues, "and when I talk to anyone, you almost look…worried. Scared, even."

At that, Yuri freezes up, and he feels something in his chest constrict. Estelle is getting at something, and if this is going where he thinks it's going, he's not going to like it.

"…Yuri, do you think I'm going to tell them? About Cumore, I mean?"

Yep, there it is.

Yuri shifts the axe uncertainly between his hands, then wipes his brow with his sleeve as if to clean away sweat that's not actually there. Estelle won't stop staring at him now, and that's kind of scary, because she notices every little thing he does and can read him like an open book—because he _has_ been watching her these past few days since they left Mantaic, and he _has_ been sort of scared.

…Though, it's not quite for the same reason she thinks.

"I, uh…" Yuri swallows hard when that comes out as a croak, then tries again. "Well, you…you never said you wouldn't."

That _is_ true—Estelle never breathed a word about not telling the others—but it's a weak excuse, really, because Yuri knows the promise was implicit. When they went to bed that night in Mantaic, it was with the mutual understanding that what had happened was to be kept secret. In fact, that's probably the only reason Estelle didn't bring this up sooner—because she couldn't find a chance to with everyone else around, but now they're alone in the forest getting firewood while the rest are setting up the tents back at camp.

"Then I'll say it now." Estelle bows her head slightly as she stands, but when their gazes meet again, her eyes hold a steely shine. "I won't tell anyone about what you did. Not without your permission. I swear it."

Her voice doesn't waver for a moment; it rings strong and with such earnest conviction, and even though Yuri never truly doubted that in the first place, hearing it from her lips makes his heart flutter in his chest. He's not sure whether that's a comfort or a terror, though, because what Estelle is promising is _complicity_ as much as it is solidarity. And Estelle is too good to be an accomplice to what he's done.

Estelle is too good, and her eyes are gentle and her voice is soft as she begs him, "So…please. I don't want you to have to look at me like you're scared."

Yuri stifles a humorless laugh. It's ironic, really, because she's the one who should be scared of him but she's not, and instead Yuri is the one scared. Not _of_ her, per say, but…rather, _for_ her. He can trust her to keep his secret, he knows that, but he still can't quite understand how, after what he's done, she still trusts _him_. Trusts him with her _life_ , trusts him more than he trusts himself.

Yuri doesn't deserve such trust, and Estelle doesn't deserve to be dragged down with him.

"Estelle…" he tries, but no more words come out, he doesn't know what else he can say, so eventually, Yuri just bites his lip and turns away. He raises his axe and sets back to work, his arms sweeping through the air in large, wholly unnecessary movements as he chops the remaining wood. Straining himself like this is a waste of his energy, he knows, but he keeps going. Frankly, Yuri just doesn't give a damn right now.

Estelle doesn't say anything else, and silence reigns, broken only by the chirps of birds and crickets and the thwack of metal on wood, until finally, Yuri sets the last sliced log aside. Sweat slides slick over his brow, and he wipes it away for real this time, panting from the exertion, then sheathes his axe. Once he has his breath back, he bends down, fumbling to pick up all the firewood…

And then a hand is on his, the touch gentle but enough to make him go still as a statue, and when Yuri dares to look up, Estelle has her lips pursed at him in what looks like concern. She holds her arms out towards him, but Yuri remains motionless, unsure of what he's supposed to do now.

"You're tired. I can carry those back," Estelle explains, but she doesn't move to take the logs herself. She's waiting, Yuri realizes, waiting for him to hand them over to her, and as he stares at Estelle's outstretched arms, then at green eyes that glimmer kindly, then at the haphazard wood pile in his hands, he feels whatever was left of his resistance crumble away entirely.

"…Thanks," Yuri murmurs, meaning it in more ways than one, and gives her all of it.


End file.
